


The Torment of Existence Weighed Against the Horror of Nonbeing

by orphan_account



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Boobear, Comforting, Couple, F/M, Fluff, Fluffy, Harry Styles - Freeform, It's Okay, Louis Tomlinson - Freeform, Love, Nightmares, One Shot, Perfect, Self-Harm, Sweetheart, attempted suicide, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 23:17:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4038376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry thinks he has the house all to himself when he picks up the bottle of pills. Louis decides to pop in for a visit that day.</p><p>Before That Day they were just friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Torment of Existence Weighed Against the Horror of Nonbeing

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This one-shot contains graphic depictions of self-harm, so if you are triggered easily by that kind of stuff, please do not read.

[Harry's POV]

I finally had the house to myself. I could finally do what I've been wanting to do for months. I'd been planning out every bit and peice, just waiting and waiting and waiting for my opprotunity to free myself from this world once and for all.  
It wasn't like I hated this _world_ per se, it was just the fact that I couldn't take living my life. Waking up everyday knowing that I'm me and that I couldn't change that even if I tried, and believe me, I've tried. I'd come to loathe myself to such a degree that I didn't even want to be alive anymore. I didn't want to face the daunting challenges that my shit life presented.  
I didn't want to walk past my mirror everyday, being forced to look at the horrendous creature that was me.  
I didn't want to even hear my own fucking voice, I was so done with everything.  
The burning fire in my heart blazed with such an intensity that, the times when I wasn't alone, could only be settled with a sharp graze of my razor. Often times I cut deep enough to hurt, but not deep enough to kill. I had tried to cut deep enough to reach my veins, so that maybe that way I could bleed out and leave a more dramatic ending for whoever found me.  
Sometimes, I just considered walking in front of a bus in the middle of a highway, but if I didn't die, I'd just be in debt up to my neck in medical bills and that was the lasst thing I wanted.

In the end, I figured swallowing a bunch of pills would just be easier.

I rose off of my couch and shut the TV off, not caring that the my lamp was overturned, cushions ripped from the couch, and clothes were strewn about. I stood there thinking of the completely rage-fueled fit I had thrown earlier this morning when I had decided enough was enough. After a second, I turned the tele back on, yet still left the room. The silence became eerie at the knowledge of what I was about to do, so I left it on to tune out everything that told me to keep fighting. Reaching the bathroom, I opened up the cabinet and reached for the first bottle of pills that caught my eye. I made sure to refill them the day before so I had plenty to take to make sure that I would not survive this. 

I rolled the bottle over in my hands and read the printed label.

_Harry Styles_  
_Clinical Depression (MDD)_

I chuckled to myself and let the sick thought run through my mind that the thing that was supposed to save me, would kill me.

My lifesavers were my grave diggers.

I had been diagnosed with Clinical Depression since I was about 13, when my parents first saw the scars on my wrists. They took me to a therapist and the lady made me take a survey, and when the results came in, she diagnosed me with Clinical Depression. It's also called Major Depression Disorder (MDD) because of how serious it is. It's the most dangerous form of depression and if you're not careful, it can lead to horrible horrible things.

For some reason, I found that thought funny at the moment. Here I was, about to do something my therapists and parents and family and friends said they'd help me through.

_Friends._

I didn't have many friends. Five at the most. I wasn't really close to any of them, and that's exactly the way I liked it. Not only were we not close, but I didn't want to be close, because I knew that one day I would end up dead and I wanted to hurt as least people as possible.

Not that anyone would really be hurt, anyways.

No matter who I was around, I always felt like a nuisance. Like I was always in somebody's way, or inconveniencing them somehow.  
Despite allowing all of my deepest and darkest thoughts to run free in my mind, one person kept on popping up in my head.

Louis Tomlinson.  
Louis was truly something else.  
When I was with him, I felt like a _person._ I would forget about the constant itch in my wrists and thighs, and instead focus on the beauty of his smile, or the smallness of his figure, or his soft and sweet voice that I could record and put on repeat for days. He was the only person I was relatively close to, although he did not know anything about my mental state. I didn't want him to know; partially because I was afraid the way he looked at me would change. A smaller, less conspicuous part of me didn't want him to try and convince me to stop what I have been waiting so long to do. What scared me the most is that he'd be the one to find me - he sometimes dropped in unnanounced, and I loved it, I was just afraid that one time I wouldn't be able to answer the door.

Right as I went to open the bottle of pills, my phone vibrated in my pocket. The last thing I wanted to do was answer my phone, because I didn't want to be distracted. With the sound of canned laughter from my TV in the living room, I placed my phone on my bedside table, and sat on the edge of my bed.

_This is it. This is goodbye._

I didn't need any more preperation due to the fact that I had written my will and note a few days before. I heard a door open and close, but I figured it was the TV or me being paranoid. In theory, it could be both.

Or neither.

Suddenly, I became aware of what I was wearing: A short-sleeved white tee with black pants. The deep and bright scars were prominent on both of my arms, but since I lived alone, it didn't matter how I dressed. Looking at myself made the hate in my heart ignite, and tears welled in my eyes. I wanted to die, and I was sure of that. If I wasn't before, I sure as hell was now.

I walked over and looked in the mirror, immediately cringing at my disgusting figure. I turned away as fast as I could, and sat back on the edge of my bed.

I didn't know why, but tears were falling as I finally opened the bottle of pills and started forcing them down my throat.

Of course something had to go wrong.  
Of course I couldn't just have this one moment.  
Of course Louis had to stop by at this time.

"Harry, I-," he paused for a few seconds, still in the living room, "What happened here?"  
I quickly swallowed the small amount of pills that actually reached my mouth, and as I was looking for a place to hide the bottle, Louis came storming into my bedroom, and flung the door open.

"Harry, are you he-" He paused, taking in the sight. I was on my feet, hiding my hands behind my back.

"What's going on?" He asked slowly.

"Nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing."

I didn't answer.

"What's behind your back?"

"Not important."

"Harry, bring your hands in front of you."

I didn't move.

"Harry, I just-" his voice cracked slightly, "Just show me."

Obeying him, I slowly brought my hands in front of me, realizing there was no escape.  
His hand flew up to his mouth and a choked sob escaped his lips.  
For a few seconds, we just stood there- me with my hands (including wrists) in front of me, and him with his eyes glistening with tears.

If I had never experienced a heartbreak before, I was sure this was what it felt like.  
Watching someone you care about cry because of a stupid mistake you were making.

"Louis, I... I'm sorry. I can't- I didn't expect you... to walk in."

Something must've clicked with him at that statement because his eyes filled with sorrow and surprise and anger.

"Were you trying to kill yourself?" He asked so bluntly. I was taken aback by the question, and wasn't sure how to answer. The slight glimmer in his eyes had now become full-on tears streaming down his face, and the longer I took to answer, the harder his tears fell.  
I stood there, completely dumbfounded by this entire situation.

I walked up to him and wrapped my arms around his small figure, as he shook and sobbed against my chest.  
"Harry, I-I," He paused and the next sentence came out as hardly a whisper, "I'm in love with you."

I froze. Completely and utterly froze.  
In love?  
With me?

He suddenly hugged me tighter, "I'm so sorry. I should've been there. I should've known-"  
"No, no sweetheart. It isn't your fault. Don't blame yourself," after a few moments I added, "I'm sorry."

He started crying even harder - completely bawling into my chest, "Why didn't you tell me Harry?"  
He pushed me away and grabbed my arms, "Why didn't you say anything about this?"

"I didn't think-"

"You didn't think what? That I'd be there for you? That I'd listen to your problems and help you out? Am I not good enough for you, Harry? Were you really just going to leave me behind?" The tears were falling down his face like a waterfall and he wasn't even bothering to wipe them anymore.

"God, Lou, no, don't say that," I pulled him back into my chest and he calmed down slightly.  
"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I wasn't. I was being selfish. I'm sorry, Lou, I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen, I've just been really hating myself lately and it all just gets too much sometimes-" my words became jumbled through the mass of tears streaming down my face and Louis squeezed my waist.

"I love you, Harry. So much," he looked up at me.

"I love you too, Louis."

With the little bit of energy I had left, I brought my lips down to his. It was meant to be just a peck, but once I got the taste of Louis' lips, I didn't want to ever be without it again. We both slightly opened our mouths so that it was a deep, and passionate kiss full of meaning in every way possible. It said everything we didn't say. There were so many emotions to be felt, I wasn't even sure I comprehended them all by the time Louis pulled away.

"Can we go to sleep?" He asked in a whisper, as if someone would hear us.

"Of course, babe," We kissed one more time and I led him to the bed. Once we got settled, I tucked my head into his chest, immediately establishing myself as the little spoon. 

"You are so beautiful, Harry. You're wonderful, smart, funny... I don't understand why you hate yourself so much. You are the complete package."

It almost sounded like a joke, but Louis didn't laugh and neither did I.

"I'm so sorry you've felt this way for so long, love," his voice became shaky again and I looked up at him, "You're just so... breath-taking."

I pecked him quick on the lips, told him I loved him, and mumbled a goodnight. At that moment, everything was just so right despite the horrible wrongness that we were surrounded in. I loved him and he loved me and for the first time in my life, I thought I had a chance a - not just something good - but _something great._

Maybe not everything would turn out perfect, and maybe I would still struggle with these feelings later on in life, but right now, everything was going to be alright.

And the fact that right before I drifted off Louis whispered "I'll never let you go" sent chills up my spine and a warmth through my heart.

As long as I had Louis, I wouldn't need anything else, right?


End file.
